19. Marco

19

MARCO

“ M r. Vice, he’s here.”

It’s been a long road to this point in my life.

A life I hacked out from blood and sweat, dragging myself up out of the gutter to take what I wanted. What was owed to me.

Sacrifices stacked on sacrifices. Bodies paving the road I’ve traveled to get where I am today.

The blood on my hands is for nothing if I do not succeed. And I will.

I deal in power.

It’s the law of the world, the universe. It can’t be snuffed out, only taken, shifted. Traded.

Collected. I’ve collected a lot.

“Take us in, then.” I wave to my driver, closing my eyes to focus for a time.

I need the silence to calm my nerves, to ease the discomfort in my gut.

Because I hate the way things went. The way I left things.

Unfinished.

It settles in my gut like a stone, and I need to purge it, no matter how painful.

We pulled back. Got ready.

I took my time. I had patience, for a change.

Everything's in place. Every aspect of my plan is set to perfection. A plan that will get me to an echelon of power that I only ever dreamed of. Almost limitless.

However, there are loose ends to tie up.

Two in particular that I was hoping to finalize before we headed back up the coast to take my prize. Two potential thorns in my side.

Or assets, if I can play my cards right.

Waiting, patience, has always been my biggest weakness. I want what I want, when I want it.

But this will be worth it. Sanctum Harbor and the treasures it hides are worth waiting a lifetime for.

Another car sits at the far door to the warehouse.

This place is a stone’s throw from where I holed up after we fled Sanctum Harbor after the unfortunate events of that nonsense at the Ball. We should have taken the town then, but I had to be sure my victory was certain.

Xavier Clive and Oliver Devonde could each offer me far too much resistance. And I had to know if one of them was gunning for me.

So I reached out. Waited for them to come to me.

Of course, the snake came.

The wolf, on the other hand…

In the meantime, I secured myself a small estate, a guarded mansion a few hours south of the city to turn into my base of operations. The pissant movie producer who lived there was eager to let me stay once I offered him a chance to live if he let me have it.

“It’s about time. You haven’t responded to me in days!” Devonde’s simpering wine makes me want to strangle the squirming lizard. He’s a wretched little thing.

But he eked out a nice little nook here. One I’ve put to good use.

“I’ve been a bit preoccupied. Assassination attempts tend to make people nervous.” Not that I think anyone was actually trying to kill me with that bomb the night of the Sinner’s Ball. It was a distraction.

Still, in the aftermath, Clive gave me a healthy dose of patience chasing my motorcade out of town. The bastard almost had me there at the end.

“Well, I can assure you, it wasn’t my doing. I wasn't keen on your appearance at the ball, but I know an opportunity when I see it. We have a lot to discuss!”

“Do we?” I mock.

“If we are going to be partners, you will treat me with respect.” Devonde raises his chin.

“Then talk, instead of mewling,” I sneer.

Devonde’s lip curls, his eyes widening. Apparently, he’s as accustomed to people fearing him as I am. And not at all prepared for whom he’s dealing with.

He’s used to having the upper hand, a greater force, more power. If he were smarter, if he were more capable, he’d play this a lot differently.

“I apologize. Things have been trying lately.”

“Has it? I thought your drug trade was booming, or that’s how you made it seem.”

“Things will level out. There have been some… inconveniences.”

“Do tell.” I smile, letting him wonder.

He matches my grin, pasting a fake rictus on his sunken face. Ugly fucker.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, Mister Vice. I’m sure you are all too aware of the risks of this industry.” He shrugs, watching me for any reaction.

I give him nothing.

“Enough with the small talk. Tell me how things look in Sanctum. Have you found what I asked you to find yet?”

“I’m still looking into it. Unfortunately, our town has a bad habit of losing important records. Goes with the territory of being run by a shadow council.”

This piece of shit thinks he can lie to me?

Dig the hole deeper, snake.

“In any event, I wanted to discuss some ground rules with your return to my city. I need assurances of our agreement. Just so we can all stay in our lanes, carve out our own kingdoms, and coexist.”

“Naturally.”

“The drug trade into Canada and everything down in Dockside is my territory. I think that’s only fair, since you will be taking over the bulk of the city works, the political center, the media, entertainment, etc. I’ll leave it to you and Clive to discuss your own terms with the Block?—”

“Clive declined to meet with us, told me to go fuck myself,” I interject, scowling to keep from laughing.

Devonde shakes his head in disbelief, like he’s not surprised at the MC president’s decision. He mistakes my expression, though. I’m not disappointed in Clive. I’m disgusted with the fact that Devonde thinks he has a fucking chance.

“Fool. Can’t he see what an opportunity this is, our three organizations teaming up? I mean, I don’t want to presume, but we could run an entire time zone, am I right?’ Devonde’s eyes flare, greed and hunger in his eyes.

But he’s the fool here. Clive was smart not to try and deal with me.

If he’s really smart, he and his little gang of cyclists will be long gone by the time I get to Sanctum Harbor.

“Well, if Clive doesn't want in on this, I'm happy to cut him out and divide the spoils among the two of us. I apologize for holding out on you, but I wanted to make sure things were well in hand before playing my hand. What you are looking for… it’s there. Right underneath the town. I found records. As to our agreement, I can have paperwork drawn up?—”

“You know? That sounds like a really good deal.” I grin, Devonde matching my elated expression, relief clear on his face. He gave me exactly what I wanted. Confirmation. “And you know what sounds like a better deal still, Devonde?”

“I can think of a few things…”

Desperate fucker.

“How about you thank whatever god you pray to that I’ve let you keep what you have now? How about you take whatever I give you and kiss my fucking boots for the pleasure of being allowed to serve?”

Devonde’s face drops, confusion and rage warring across his features. It’s shock. I have him stupefied. Straight dumbfounded.

He looks even more serpentine when he gapes at me like that. Like he wants me dead.

The feeling is mutual.

Devonde is a relic. He’s just like my predecessors back in Cali. Old, complacent monuments to a crumbling system. Family. Loyalty. Subterfuge.

This is the digital era. That shit doesn’t work anymore.

Attention spans can’t accommodate familial ties to an organization that expects them to follow orders blindly.

Thugs these days want…

Money. Toys. And to feel like they’re the star of their own fucking TV show.

So I feed them that lie. I buy them the newest gear. I give them what they think is free reign over a microscopic kingdom of their own.

It makes them feel in control. I let them go nuts.

Because they want control, but they don’t have the brain power or the ambition to see anything through. They want someone with vision to handle the details, the semantics.

The result is a flashy, dangerous game they don’t realize they’re playing until they’re in jail or dead. All of it works for me, to distract the law and my adversaries from the big moves that I make, right out in the open.

Because the more money I get, the less anyone gives a fuck about wrong or right.

As long as they get a slice. Then, once I own them, I can take it all away.

I snap back to the moment as Devonde composes himself.

“I don’t think I like what you're implying, Mr. Vice.”

“Please, there's no need to get worked up. Because the more upset you get, the more outraged you feel, which only makes it harder to accept the facts.”

“And what are those facts?” he grits out between grinding teeth.

“You’re done, Oliver. I want your company, sure. If you want to run it, even better. Less headache for me. But I already own most of your men.”

“Lies. My men are loyal.”

“You’re right. Some of them were.”

His face contorts, realization dawning on him.

“If you think I'm going to stand by for one second and let you completely wipe me out of the picture, you've got another thing coming!”

“Oh, tell me what I’ve got coming, Devonde. What do you have to threaten me with? You barely have enough to keep your property tax paid, last I checked.”

“You know nothing!”

“I’m everywhere, you sack of shit! I’m already inside your organization. I’m in your bank accounts, I’m in your bedroom at night watching you try to sleep!”

I’ll admit, I can get a bit carried away. Power gets me high.

Especially when I can shove it down some cocksucker’s throat as he realizes how fucked he is.

“Who do you think has been taking out your generals, wiping out your dealers?” I take a step toward him, and he flinches. Good.

“You will regret this. You’ll regret ever stepping foot in Sanctum Harbor.” Devonde turns, heading toward his car, waving for his men to follow.

Two steps out, he stops, looking back.

Both guards watch me, waiting for a signal.

I see Devonde process the betrayal in an instant. Right before be makes a dash for cover.

Guy’s fast for his age. I’ll give him that.

My men spray the warehouse with bullets, fanning out on my signal.

“I would have let you live, Devonde. Remember that with your last breath.” Even if living would only ever be at my discretion.

He darts from cover between the pillars of the old warehouse, ducking between shadows. A yelp of agony tells me he’s hit, at least once, in the process. I watch for another few seconds before heading back to my car.

Even if they don’t kill him, his fate’s sealed. He won’t last the week.

Because we’re taking the town in force. My entire army is with me, ready for a fucking war. And my men know what it means to fail. It’s an all-out competition, and I’m the referee.

As my driver pulls away, I feel a moment of irritation, followed by an intense feeling of anticipation, satisfaction. The gunfire echoes behind us, reminding me that my days of rash decisions and clawing my way to the top are over.

Securing my throne in a veritable fortress will set me up for life, set me up to be a king. Free from threats to my life, free from government, and sitting right on top of more wealth than I could ever need to keep my empire running forever.

Because Sanctum Harbor isn't just a figurative goldmine. It's a literal goldmine.

Every one of those hills is chock full of the stuff, which explains not only why the Sinful established their order here, but why they've been so zealous to maintain their stronghold on the area and how they've managed to do so with seemingly infinite funds.

“Send word to the men. It’s time. We’re going in. No turning back.”

I've done about as much research as we're going to be able to do. I have infiltrated every single level of government. Every level of business. It paints a pretty clear picture.

It’s a ruler’s wet dream.

An autonomous haven free from the US government.

I can start my own goddamn country. There’s just one thing missing, a tidbit secret that I need to lock in to secure my rule there, to unlock the Sinful’s wealth and power.

And I know who holds that secret.

Getting it from her and making her pay for sneaking off all those years ago will just sweeten the pot. I’m going to find Hellena, eliminate anything that stands in my way, and she’s going to tell me what my late wife couldn’t.

She’s going to share her father’s secrets with me. Or she’ll see what true retribution and pain looks like.

Or maybe, she’ll come willingly. With the right incentives.